


Dancing, A Coping Method

by timeisweird



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Drabble, Gen, Prompt Fic, can be read as romantic if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2019-02-09 20:05:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12895722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timeisweird/pseuds/timeisweird
Summary: “Dancing isalsogood for letting go of useless bullshit, like the shock you’re feeling for almost destroying your own race catastrophically and causing one big paradox to boot. You should try it sometime.”





	Dancing, A Coping Method

The Doctor and Rose finish their dance a little ungracefully as the song - Glen Miller, now  _that_ was something he hadn’t heard in a long time - comes to a close. Rose falls away laughing, breathless, and the Doctor simply grins.

Jack watches them from the periphery of the ship - the TARDIS, the Doctor had called it? He thought those were just myths, legends told by Time Agents who had had too much to drink - two mysterious travelers who he had tried to con, who watched as he realized what he had done - had almost done, he reminded himself.

Who had just saved his life.

He makes eye contact with the Doctor, for only a moment, but feels a shiver go down his spine anyway. He looks away first, though his instinct as a conman says  _No, hold your ground._

“Rose,” the Doctor says. “D’you mind getting us some tea? Been a long day.” No matter the fact that  _everyone lived_ , the horror of watching skin turn to rubber, bone to hard plastic, had been hard enough on Jack. Tea sounds nice right now, even if he wasn’t sure he could keep it down long enough for it to matter.

“Am I just the tea lady now?” she teases.

He rolls his eyes. “You can pick the blend.” She glances at Jack, shrugs, and leaves through a corridor in the back of the console room. Just how big is this place, he wonders.

And then they’re alone, the Doctor and he. Jack busies himself with looking anywhere  _but_ the Doctor, who is leaning against the console, arms folded. He does manage to notice how the Doctor doesn’t take his eyes off him, and he notices how that makes him feel like his soul’s exposed, for all to see. What could he possibly be seeing?

“You know,” the Doctor starts, forcing Jack to draw his attention to him. From somewhere in the ship, another song starts to play, starting out soft. “Dancing’s great. Good for loosening up.” He pushes himself away from the console, and walks over to Jack. “Gets the blood pumping, muscles moving, endorphins rushing, all that good stuff that makes you tick.”

The Doctor’s cool hand grabs his warm one, and suddenly he’s been led towards the center of the room. As eager as he had been when he first stepped onto this mind-boggling ship, his confidence had quickly been lost as the shock began to set in, and suddenly he finds himself wishing to be left to find whatever guest room he’s been assigned and sleep for at least a week. But of course, he can’t say  _that._

“As much as I’d love a dance with you, Doc, I don’t think I’m–”

“Dancing,” the Doctor interrupts, “is  _also_ good for letting go of useless bullshit, like the shock you’re feeling for almost destroying your own race catastrophically, and causing one big paradox to boot. You should try it sometime.” He gives a wry grin, like he just made a joke that only he knows.

Jack is startled into speechlessness. A surge of courage leads to him staring into the Doctor’s eyes, searching for any hint that he’s joking. But no, he’s not. He seriously believes that something like  _dancing_ will solve this. That a simple waltz and a smile will just wash away what he did like it never happened?

There’s a surge of music - Duke Ellington, this time - and then they’re doing just that. Waltzing to jazz as the Doctor gives him one of those characteristic smiles of his. The dancing’s alright - Neither of them can  _quite_ get into the rhythm of the music, and Jack hasn’t danced properly since… well, he can’t remember when. But trying to keep his feet straight keeps his mind off The Thing He Refuses To Think About Fully, and that’s what matters to the Doctor, he thinks.

The song is fading out when Rose comes back, a tea tray in her hands, complete with sugar and biscuits. She stands just inside the room, watching them with a grin. She waits until the two finish their dance to speak.

She addresses the Doctor. “Making Jack feel welcome, I see?”

“He seemed so keen on a dance earlier,” he says, leaving Jack for the ship’s console (which he still doesn’t quite believe is a  _TARDIS_. Probably just a name, more than anything).

The Doc returns to his usual banter as he messes with the controls, complaining about heat shielding and spatial stabilizers - Jack doesn’t, however, miss the occasional warm glance towards Rose, nor does he miss the way his gruffness seems to melt away when they talk.

Jack takes his tea black - he doesn’t think he could stomach anything sweet right now - and lets Rose sit on the jump seat as they chat. He finds out she’s from the early twenty first century. and that she met the Doctor when he blew up her job some time ago. Time’s relative, she says like she’s quoting a lecture, so she isn’t sure how long it’s been, but it feels like months since they started traveling together.

She goes on, and Jack finds a conversation where he isn’t determined to get the other person to  _talk_ , to make a mistake, to reveal something he can use to his own advantage, so much more refreshing than he thought it could be.

Dancing might not be able to erase his mistakes completely. But he finds, as he finishes the last dregs of his tea, and Rose pulls him up from his seat for a dance, that maybe it can ease the pain just a bit.

 

**Author's Note:**

> prompt given by [renegadeartist](/users/renegadeartist/pseuds/renegadeartist): “Dancing is great. Good for loosening up, letting go of useless bullshit. You should try it some time.” rose, jack, and nine crew (romantic or nah, its up to you)


End file.
